


The Stars Choose Their Lovers

by MachaSWicket



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, an alternative ending for the series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:48:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22426600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MachaSWicket/pseuds/MachaSWicket
Summary: SUMMARY: My take on what I'd like to see for Oliver, Felicity, William, and Mia in the series finale that I will, admittedly, probably never see. Based entirely on where things stood at the end of S7, and what I would do were I writing the end of the series.When the grueling fight finally ends, there’s a long, shuddering pause, a sudden, strangely quiet moment after the chaos, like the multiverse itself isn’t quite sure what happens next.He... survived?Oliver is just starting to process what that means for his future when everything fades to nothingness, like the multiverse turned out the lights.
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, William Clayton & Felicity Smoak & Mia Smoak, William Clayton & Oliver Queen & Mia Smoak
Comments: 37
Kudos: 254





	The Stars Choose Their Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS: Through the end of S7, and thematic spoilers at best for S8/Crisis, because I haven't been watching. *shrug*

When the grueling fight finally ends, there’s a long, shuddering pause, a sudden, strangely quiet moment after the chaos, like the multiverse itself isn’t quite sure what happens next. 

Oliver groans and pushes himself to his feet, looking around to make sure his kids are safe, and his team. Mia is bruised and bloodied, but _alive_ , thank God, and he can hear William’s frantic requests for a sitrep through the comms. Dig is fine, and Lyla. Rene, Dinah -- they all survived. It’s more than he could’ve hoped for, honestly.

And yet -- _he_ _also_ survived, somehow. Reflexively, he glances down at himself, searching for a fatal wound, but there’s only bruises and broken ribs.

He... _survived_?

Oliver is just starting to process what that means for his future when everything fades to nothingness, like the multiverse turned out the lights.

“No!” he shouts, panicked, jolting upright. When he opens his eyes, he swears can feel the echo of dirt and drying blood on his skin, and the phantom ache of overtaxed, bruised muscles, sore joints. But rubbing a hand over his face, he feels only sweat and stubble -- _nothing_ amiss.

Oliver blinks, and the room around him comes into focus, just barely illuminated by the glow of a digital clock on the bedside table. He’s not in his war-torn suit, but just his boxer-briefs, warmed by the familiar weight of the purple-and-grey duvet Felicity chose a month before Mia’s birth, during her extreme nesting phase.

“Mmm, babe, y’okay?” Felicity mumbles from beside him, her hand landing clumsily on his thigh, offering an uncoordinated pat.

Oliver freezes. “ _Felicity_?” he whispers, unable to believe it. He’s so confused -- is he really here, or is this some sort of hallucination? He was _just_ fighting for the fate of the entire multiverse... wasn’t he?

He knows, deep in his soul, that he was fated to die without ever seeing Felicity again. But she’s _here_ , he can feel her familiar touch against his skin, and he can hardly bear the hope welling in his chest.

Oliver turns, and she’s beside him in bed, wearing what looks like one of his old grey tank tops, her hair a disheveled mess. She continues to pat his leg in that particular uncoordinated way that means she’s still mostly asleep, and his entire body leans towards his wife’s warmth, craving her comfort. “Nightmare?” she asks, opening her eyes to blink up at him in the dim light of their bedroom. “S’been awhile.”

Oliver can’t process this -- _did_ he die after all? But, no, any sort of afterlife with the love of his life would be heaven, and there’s no way Oliver Queen has atoned enough for his many, many sins to have earned that kind of happiness. He shakes his head, still trying to get his arms around what is happening, wondering if the Monitor is giving him this one last moment of peace before his inevitable death.

“Oliver?” Felicity’s more alert now, pushing herself up onto one elbow to study him, that familiar crease in her brow that means she’s concerned about him. “Are you okay? Do you need snuggles?”

And somehow, it’s his wife’s simple, familiar question that breaks him. God, he’s missed Felicity’s kindness and comfort since he left to save the multiverse, and her longstanding offer of cuddles in the wake of his nightmares. Oliver crumples, sobbing into his hands, overwhelmed.

“Oh, honey.” Felicity pushes herself up, wrapping her small self around him as well as she can. It’s exactly what he needs -- the feeling of safety, of _home_ , that Felicity gives him. “It’s okay, my love. I’m here,” she murmurs, pressing kisses to his temple and his shoulder, squeezing him tight. “Let it out, I’m not going anywhere.” 

Oliver isn’t sure whether he’s crying with relief, or regret -- no matter how noble his intentions, he will never quite get over the guilt of leaving her to raise their kids alone. He’ll never fully heal from the pain of being without her, of _knowing_ he would die without seeing her again, without making it right. He’ll never stop mourning the life he should’ve had with his family.

But will he have that now? Is this real? Is he really home safe with his family? The possibility is overwhelming.

Felicity’s warm embrace tightens around him, and she shifts, pulling him half on top of her, still murmuring words of love and encouragement as he cries like he’ll never be able to stop.

Some time later, Oliver wakes again to the sound of a high-pitched cry, only then realizing he’d cried himself to sleep in his wife’s embrace after an incredibly vivid nightmare. He and Felicity are entangled in a warm cocoon, but Oliver’s parental instincts kick in and he realizes what woke him is his daughter. Felicity groans and shifts, tossing back the covers to go get Mia, but he intervenes. “No, please, let me.”

The more exhausting parts of being the parents of an infant have hit Felicity harder since she’s breastfeeding, but as Oliver pushes himself upright, he feels more than just the responsibility of being a good father. 

He has a fierce, inexplicable need to see his baby daughter right now, like some part of him remembers having to say goodbye to her forever.

Oliver usually wakes quickly and completely, but as he makes his way down the familiar, short hallway to Mia’s room, he’s having trouble telling reality from the nightmares that woke him earlier. Horrible dreamscapes of leaving his family, and of... the end of the world? Or an impossible fight to save the world? He frowns, because he can no longer quite recall what happened in the nightmare that left him sobbing, but he can still _feel_ the heavy dread. 

When he reaches Mia’s room, he finds his angry little daughter crying in her crib, her chubby arms and legs flailing as she demands attention. He has the sudden, disorienting vision of a fierce, beautiful blonde woman, thin and strong and fighting alongside him. “Mia?” he pauses, looking down at his baby and trying to reconcile what feels like a vivid memory of a cataclysmic battle. 

Mia whimpers, and he blinks the strange mirage away, scooping her up, cradling her small, warm body to his chest. “Hey, there, baby girl. Why are you crying?” She shifts against him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder and quieting from a full cry to grumpy little noises. “Are you hungry? Do you want to come to bed with momma and me?”

She squirms against him, drooling a bit on his chest, and he laughs. “Okay, baby girl. Let’s go see momma.”

When they reach the door to the master bedroom, Oliver pauses and looks back down the hallway, his attention caught somehow on the spare bedroom they’d intended for William. There’s a flash of what feels like a memory -- a handsome, dark-haired, adult William talking about growing up with Oliver and Felicity, without knowing his sister. “No,” Oliver whispers, shaking his head, trying to shake off that -- what, memory? Nightmare? 

“Oliver?” Felicity calls out, and he can hear the sound of the bed linens shifting as she moves, no doubt ready to come after him to make sure he’s okay.

“I’m here,” he answers, turning away from William’s room with a lingering unsettled feeling, like nothing will be quite right until their son is with them, too. “ _We’re_ here,” he corrects himself, moving over to the bed with Mia, whose little arms flail when she sees her mother. 

Felicity grins at their daughter. “Mia!” She reaches for the infant, and Oliver briefly considers refusing to hand her over, because there’s something so very reassuring about holding her safely in his arms. But he relents, helping Felicity shift the baby around and free her breast. Oliver slings an arm around his wife, watching in warm awe as Mia latches on and begins to feed. 

He shifts even closer, practically plastering himself to Felicity, who glances up at him with a furrow in her brow. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks, because she’s seen right through his defenses since their very first meeting.

“I think so,” he answers after a considerable pause. “That nightmare was... _really_ scary. But,” he continues, clearing his throat, “none of it was real.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offers, knowing that sometimes talking helps to exorcise his demons. Of everyone in the entire world, Felicity knows the most of his time away from Starling -- she knows most of what he’s done and she loves him unreservedly anyway. 

Oliver wants to share everything with her, even the dark, scary stuff, but he can’t really recall his nightmare. The tension in his frame and the barely suppressed panic in his chest remains, but any actual knowledge of what he’d dreamed has faded into obscurity. He shrugs. “I can’t remember it anymore,” he admits.

Felicity pats his thigh with her free hand. “Family snuggles will help,” she says.

Something tight and tense in Oliver’s chest releases, and he takes a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, they will.” He kisses her temple, supporting part of Mia’s slight weight with his free hand. “We need to get William back,” he whispers. “William and Mia need each other.”

Felicity turns her face up to his, wordlessly offering a kiss. He complies, kissing his wife softly, until she smiles against his lips. “I know he’s not answering our messages right now,” Felicity says, “but it’s _possible_ that William himself isn’t the one who’s avoiding us.”

Oliver frowns. “What?”

“His grandparents may be interfering,” Felicity suggests carefully. “Since they’re not our biggest fans.”

Just the thought of his son being cut off from him, of William being isolated and feeling abandoned by him and Felicity -- it makes Oliver start to panic. Which Felicity immediately senses. “Hey, hon, breathe, okay? I’ll confirm they’re still in Central City as soon as Mia’s asleep, and we can go there to talk to him.”

“You want to go to Central City?” he asks, unable to hide his surprise. Because Felicity’s paranoia has been amped up pretty high since Mia’s birth, which he understands. 

But tonight, she doesn’t even hesitate. “For our kid? I’d go a lot farther than that to make sure he’s okay, and that he gets to live where he chooses to.”

“Yeah, okay,” he agrees, letting her fierce certainty wash over him. “We can-- We can introduce the kids.” His voice is shaky with emotion at the prospect. 

Oliver takes a slow, steadying breath, unable to shake the certainty that doing so will avert a crisis. He stares down at Mia, drowsily feeding at Felicity’s breast, and he can’t believe he’s lucky enough for _this_ to be his life.

“Yeah,” Felicity muses, lifting her hand from his thigh to gently brush Mia’s wispy hair with her fingertips, “I can’t wait for our whole family to be together.”

“Me, neither.”

It’s not a whole plan, but it’s at least the beginnings of one. He trusts his genius of a wife to find William, and he trusts his son to choose whether to life with Felicity, Mia, and himself in their little cabin in the woods. Somehow, he knows William will want to come home with them, and Oliver eventually drifts back off to sleep imagining their reunion.

By the time the sunrise wakes Oliver for the day, his upsetting nightmare is entirely forgotten. 

Well, that’s not entirely true -- he knows he _had_ a nightmare, and he remembers crying himself to sleep, and needing to hold Mia, and deciding to bring William home (if William agrees). But he can’t remember a single moment of the nightmare that so terrified him.

Instead, he wakes feeling rejuvenated somehow -- any lingering responsibility he feels for saving Star City is put to rest, and his focus is on his family, where it should be. 

His focus is on their _future_ , which feels suddenly, to him, wide open. The realization is invigorating.

Rolling over in bed, Oliver pulls a sleeping Felicity closer, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “I love you,” he whispers, so quietly that she doesn’t wake. 

Then he rolls out of bed to start the day, happy.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how the show itself will end Oliver Queen's story, but in my little world, IDGAF about setting up potential spin-offs, or providing emotional inspiration for other shows in the Arrowverse. I care about Felicity Smoak, Oliver Queen, and their kids, William Clayton and Mia Smoak. The End.
> 
> Thanks for reading along with me, friends!


End file.
